


Tears of fire

by Lady_Poison_Heart (orphan_account)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Fluff, Is only referenced to tho, Light Angst, M/M, Peter and stiles are fucking, Peter to the rescue, Rejection, Scott is a Bad Friend, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Sparks are rair, Stiles is ok tho, The pack are pussys, Touch-Starved, Werewolf Peter Hale, courting, i dont know what to tell you, scotts a bad alpha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 20:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16374311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Lady_Poison_Heart
Summary: The "fire" in the title is a reference to stiles spark. I didnt know what to name this, so.....idk. wtf am i doing. I have a bio exam in 2 days. Send help





	Tears of fire

The pack had thought little of Stiles being labeled a spark, they had always known something was off about him, his scent not quite human, but not different enough to cause alarm. But Stiles, recognising it as a chance to seal his position in the pack, quickly began practicing. Deaton was of little use, but his contacts proved to be invaluable, and Stiles, with the help of several books, quickly mastered his spark. Said spark made stiles feel more useful and made fighting the latest series of big bads so much easier, but he didn't feel any more valued by his pack members. He always seemed to be on the outskirts of the pack, always left out of pack outings and meetings, unless he could be useful, he supposed. The distance between Stiles and the pack meant he, unsettling as it was, began to spend more and more time with Peter. Both of them desperate for the physical contact, the love and the bond that was supposed to be supplied to them by the pack. The pack that never seemed to care unless they wanted someone to blame (Peter) or someone to fix their mess(Stiles). Soon, Stiles began spending almost all of his time with Peter, in his fancy apartment. His father was never home to notice him missing anyway, and when he was home, he spent his time sleeping. So Stiles was free to go from school to the apartment, and from the apartment to school, only going home every few days to retrieve items, and make it look like he was still living there. Stiles didn't try and mend his failing relationships, instead, he watched as they fell apart, and focused on putting his heart and soul into the only pack bond he could feel. The one that sat burning in his chest, right next to his spark.

\-----

Stiles collapsed ungracefully into the bed, having barely removed his shoes before falling into the mattress. Stiles wanted to cry as the headache, just the start of his punishment for straining his spark, began building. Scott, even with his mighty true alpha enhancements, had nearly had his throat ripped open by a freakin vampire, and Stiles, being an idiot, had thrown the creature, and the five others in the room, into one of the walls, simultaneously setting them on fire, and holding them against the wall while they burned. His thank you for saving me had been a half an hour long spiel from his alpha on why killing was bad, and why they should have tried reasoning with the blood sucker. Stiles, being the angel he was, had sat through the lecture, half paying attention, but more concentrated on mentally preparing for the consequences of over working his spark, and vaguely wondering if he could die due to said consequences.

He was pulled from his thoughts as warm hands tug at his jeans, and shirt. Stiles remained lax as he was stripped, and a low whine escaped his lips as as he was sat up, cracking his eyes open slightly and quickly swallowed the painkillers placed in his hand. A small smile spread across stiles lips as he felt the bed dip and warm hands pull him into an even warmer chest.  
“Why am I always the little spoon?”. He croaked, not yet too gone with pain to banter with his lover. The response he received was the sound of something he could only describe as purring, something he'd read werewolves do to comfort those in pain, the sound was soothing, even to his human like senses. Stiles sighed as he relaxed, enjoying the flood of emotions coming from his bond, the feeling of safe and home and love enough to burn out the last of his adrenaline and leaving him to crash and burn as his spark went to war against his body.

Stiles was barely lucid for the next two days, waking for short bursts of time to eat and drink, and inevitably puke. When he wasn't unconscious or trying to puke up his insides, he was delusional with pain, staying in bed for those two days. Peter didn't leave him once, rubbing his hands soothingly over stiles back as he dry heaved into a bowl, unable to drain the pain and unable to move the teenager, having learnt early on that moving Stiles in such a state would only cause him more pain. When stiles finally woke up he took a long and much needed bubble bath as he rode out the end of the niggling migraine that simply refused to go away, and that he knew would be very much present for at least another two days. After that, he had settled down on the couch with Peter, ignoring whatever was playing on the tv in favour of listening to the wolf's heart.

\-----

It turns out Stiles didn't kill all of the vampires, and thus, word quickly spread throughout the supernatural community that a new pack had sprung up in beacon hills, said pack having the last two remaining hale's in it and being led by a true alpha. All of this made the growing pack more interesting, but it was the spark in said pack that really drew attention. The pack, minus Peter and Stiles, would later find out that sparks are super rare. Super rare meaning that there is, to Peters knowledge, only five other sparks in all of america, and less than thirty on the whole planet. That rarity made many supernaturals make sure to steer well clear of beacon hills, but also meant that some swarmed into the town with the intention of mating or forcibly binding Stiles to them. As it turned out that sparks needed to bind with another being to ensure they didn't “burn out” as Deaton had described it, these bindings were lifelong, and meant that if one of the pair died, the other would follow, bonding with a spark would also enhance the bondeds powers. The news of a new spark also somehow made its way into the hunting community at which point stiles realised he was royally fucked. He would continue to get courting offers, and thus be stalked until he found someone to bond, or was forcibly bound to someone. Overall, not gonna be fun for Stiles.

\-----

It was the monday after stiles two day visit to hell when the first letter arrived, sent by a fae prince to enquire about meeting up, and eventually courting him. Stiles had paused for a moment to read the letter, then again, before picking up his phone and calling Peter, who answered quickly having felt stiles through their pack bond. Stiles was uncharacteristically silent as Peter stepped in the door, the wolf ignoring the letter held out to him in favor of checking Stiles for injuries. Seemingly satisfied at having found none, he plucked the paper from stiles finger tips. Silence reigned for a few moments as his lover read over the text.  
“You're not seriously considering this are you?”. Peter enquired bluntly.  
“pshhh, no. Three reasons. One, its from a fae, two, its from a fae and three, eew, who sends letters these days”. Stiles snarked before continuing sheepishly at the look the wolf gave him. “And I would miss you oh so very much zombie wolf. Come here and read over the response letter I drafted, you're old and know stuff. Fancify my shitty two minute draft then we'll send it back and be done with it”. Peter spluttered at the world old, a growl escaping his lips.  
“Excuse you, I'm not old”.   
“Your old enough to be my dad”.  
“you should call me daddy then”.  
Stiles response was to slap the man in the face with a rolled up piece of junk mail and flee across their apartment, laughter bubbling out of his mouth as the wolf gave chase.

\-----

It turns out, that wasn't it and for the next few days Stiles was swamped with courting letters and even a few emails. He wasn't sure how they got his, Peters address or his email, but he supposed it was better they turn up at Peters than at his home. He wouldn't be able to explain away a courting letter from some wendigo princess from Chicago. Eventually, Stiles decided it was time to tell the pack, he couldn't deal with the number of letters, even with Peter's help, and did not want to accidentally start a war by forgetting to respond to a letter. That conversation went as well as you would have expected, but two hours and several screaming matches later, they got to work sorting through the pile of paper that had been steadily growing for the last few days. Once the pack began working, they fell nicely into their places, the light banter that hadn't been present for several months returning. Stiles smiles, enjoying the weight that seemed to be lifted from his shoulders as he worked. The first supernatural with their eye on stiles arrived five days after the incident with the vampires.

\-----

Stiles sighed as he regarded the shopping list, he was tired and had a bunch of homework to do, but Peter wasn't sure it was a good idea to go out in public, as he was regarded as dead by most. And his sudden returning might draw even more attention to beacon hills. He paused as he regarded the isle of cereals, before grabbing a random box and hurling it uncaringly into the cart. Half an hour later he stood in the frozen isle, comparing ice cream flavors, because this was worth his time.

Stiles squealed as someone bumped into him, almost dropping the container of frozen heaven in his hands as he tries to regain his balance. Just as he begins to fall, a hand lands on his shoulder, stiles tensed, he still didn't like being touched after what happened with Gerard, and in fact everything that had happened since scott got bitten. Turning, stiles eyes followed up the strangers arm to look into his eyes. The man was relatively attractive and smiles harmlessly at him, but something about the unknown male made stiles uncomfortable.  
“sorry” he said simply, “I'm Cole”.  
“It's fine, don't worry about it”. Stiles replied, his eyes scanning the isle as he cursed silently. He was alone. With another half-smile, Stiles turned back to looking at ice cream flavors. But the stranger didn't seem to get the hint, and continued talking.  
“And your name is?”. Internally sighing, stiles turned back around.  
“I'm stiles”. Stiles absently tossed both containers into his basket and turned to walk away from the male, he couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched throughout the rest of his trip and was halfway back to Peters by the time the feeling left.

\-----

A week later stiles walked into a one of the club's across town. A frown etched across his face.  
“remind me, why i'm here?”. He spoke into the com in his ear, (thanks danny) simultaneously flashing a smile at the some random guy across the room.   
“Because, we need to get rid of this witch and you look like the rest of his victims, lanky with brown hair and eyes. Just try not to get your blood drained out of your body”. A voice spoke from the device.  
“Your lucky I look good in heels, and lucky Peter doesn't know about this. He's gonna be pissed”.  
“Not my problem”.  
Grumbling lightly, Stiles turned on the bar stool to scan the crowd. Startling slightly as someone settled into the stool beside him.  
“Stiles, hi”.

Stiles surveyed the male, Blond hair, blue eyes. The same blue eyes he'd seen in the supermarket a week ago. his body language seemed harmless enough, but was also somewhat forced looking, making stiles impossibly more wary. Something about the male, Cole he remembered, made him want to run away. The same something that had kept him alive when faced with many other supernaturals. Stiles tried to relax, if he was the witch, than he would notice if stiles acted too wary. Stiles smiled, trying to make it as realistic as possible. By the way Cole's eyes narrowed, he hadn't pulled it off.  
“Cole, right?”.  
“Yeh, nice heels”.

Another smile that broke off when a voice came through his com.  
“We think that's him, take him outside, Derek's going to pull him into the ally on the left of the building, make sure you go that way”.  
Reaching out, stiles brushed his hand over Coles shoulder, smiling in a way he hoped looked seductive.  
“Let's get out of here”. He purred, leaning over to breath in the suspected witches ear. “My apartments not that far away”.  
Cole seemed hesitant, so stiles nudged his nose into Coles jaw and bit down lightly on his ear lobe.  
“Don't you want to play with me?”. Stiles pouted, pulling away to look into cold, ocean eyes.

After another moment of hesitation, Coles hand curled into Stiles and he allowed himself to be led through the crowd of sweaty bodys. Stiles tried to suppress the growing tension and the butterflies in his stomach, his brain screamed at him to run and his pulse beat like a drum in his ears. Something was going to go wrong. He realised what was going wrong the moment Cole began leading him away from the door, they were walking in the wrong direction. Stiles tugged on the fingers wrapped around his own.  
“How far is yours?”. Stiles said,   
“A few blocks”.  
“Mine place is closer, let's go to mine”. He widened his eyes and pushed his bottom lip out.  
“No it's not”. Cole snarled, turning around and stabbing something into stiles neck, stiles vaguely felt himself being thrown into the seat of a car before he lost consciousness.

\-----

A hand ran soothingly through stiles his as he drifted in and out of consciousness. His face contorted as he breathed, before his brain processed what had happened and his eyes flew open. A (Manly) screeching noise escaped his lips as stiles tried to throw himself away from the blond witch. Only to be yanked back into the position he was in, spread out across a bed, limbs tied to each corner. Stiles forced back tears as he felt the hand return to his body, this time rubbing over his face and down to his collar bones. The witch shushed him in what he supposed ws supposed to be a comforting way, a single tear tracked its way down his freckled cheeks. The hand around his throat, above the cool metal stiles recognized as a collar, tightened. Not cutting of his oxygen supply, but warning him.  
“Don't cry baby” he was cooed at “I'll make it all better in a second. Just be a good boy and let me do something, ok?”. Stiles shoulders shook as he suppressed his sobs, he would not be proven weak and he would not die here.

The hands moved downwards and Stiles bit back a gasp as his shirt was torn from his body. More tears gathered in his eyes. This was going to happen, he was going to be forcibly bound, and most likely raped. And then be forced to live with him and his coven, if he had one, forever. Stiles forced his eyes open as something sharp was pressed against his chest, a large knife was being used to carve into his chests. His eyes widened as the runes carved into the knife flared with light and color. He watched numbly as Cole carved into his own chest. His hands then reached down to tugs at his skinny jeans, and for a moment Stiles was thankful for all the moments he had struggled to put them on. He supposed that any more time he could get, gave him more of a chance to be rescued. Eventually tho, his jeans were dropped off the bed. Cold, chapped lips met stiles and a tongue dove into his mouth. Rage burst in his belly, he didn't ask to be a spark, he didn't ask for any off this. In his anger, Stiles bit down as hard as he could on the witches tongue, enjoying the burst of copper in his mouth.

But the satisfaction quickly left as a hand slapped across his cheek and a voice snarled above him.  
“You little bitch, I was going to make this enjoyable for both of us. But you had to go ruin it didn't you, Slu-”.  
A snarling, howl echoed from behind the door as stiles legs were forced apart. The witch stilled.  
“Seems like your puppys found you, too bad i'll have to kill them now”.  
The male slid off of stiles and his feet had barely hit the floor by the time the door was smashed open. The crack of it splintering forced stiles to blink away his tears as he looked at the figure in the door. Peter eyes flared their supernatural blue as he snarled, body in half shift and teeth dangerously jagged. A low whine escaped stiles lips as he tugged at the restrains, his panicked mind only just noticing the feeling of the spark in his chest, or rather the absence of said spark. 

It was there, his mind supplied after a moment of desperate searching, but seemed too distant to reach no matter how hard he tried. Thankfully, the witch barely had the chance to utter a single word before his body was being torn apart and his blood painted the room. A heartbeat later his binds were torn away from him and he was pressed into a familiar chest, he allowed the beating of Peters heart to soothe him as he was carried out of the room. Stiles exhaled as the adrenaline swimming through his veins began to wear off, leaving him to deal with the rollercoaster of emotions that washed over him. He was thankful when the adrenaline high ended and the crash finally pulled him from consciousness.

\-----

Peter was pissed, but was forced to deal with it when hunters rolled into town. Followed by several other supernatural, some weren't as bad as Cole, and left when they were told stiles wasn't interested in courting/binding with them. The ones who refused to leave were taken care of either by Stiles and Peter, or by the large group of hunters that had seemingly moved in over night. The pack was useless as ever and understandably wary of said hunters, as they could easily attack the newly turned members, meaning the last full moon was spent chained up for most of the pack. As most of them were too newly bitten to have enough control not to go running into the preserve looking for prey. 

\-----

It was Chris who managed to set up the meeting between the pack and the new hunters. The two groups arranged to meet on the remanence of the old hale house. Where it had all started. Thankfully all went well and other than a bit of snarling and a few cocked guns, both party's left satisfied. The hunters graciously followed the code, and were only in Beacon hills to ensure the still spiking number of supernaturals in the town, behaved. Meaning the pack were free to roam the preserve, although everyone remained tense and vigilant. 

\-----

Two weeks later, Stiles bound himself to Peter. The process was painless, and it turned out, stiles was already partly bound to him anyways. A few words from deaton and a session of “love making” (Read: Stiles ass being destroyed) later. They were officially bound. The next day, Stiles was relieved to find only Peters bills in the mailbox.


End file.
